


Stoke the Embers

by winchestersingerautorepair



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), Angst, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Smut, This is not a happy fic friends, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, You've been warned, bc dean needs therapy, switchin it up folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27305539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchestersingerautorepair/pseuds/winchestersingerautorepair
Summary: Destiel; endverse.As he’d lost his powers, something happened that Castiel had only appreciated upon looking back: over time, his angelic intuition about Dean had shifted seamlessly into human understanding. So much of his insight into the mind of Dean Winchester had been primed by an angel’s senses, but now that all that was left in him was human cognition, his knowledge felt all the more intimate. Empathy, true empathy had woven in, so being able to read Dean like a book was also like carving its most heartbreaking words into his own skin.He wondered if Dean ever felt the same way about him.He thought he might know the answer.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 53





	Stoke the Embers

**Author's Note:**

> Another un-beta'd product of my insomnia. Castiel has the unfortunate issue of loving someone too broken to love him back. Sorry in advance. Also starts out with something of a punch so be ready for that.

Castiel rarely tops anymore. 

Most of the sex was quick, all bodies pressed against walls and cocks gripped together in spit lubed fists, teeth grazing necks and breath hot and heavy in ears. They did it in darkness, and as though they were running out of time, like it was dirty, secret, shameful. It wasn’t a secret, at least not in that it wasn’t known -- no one mentioned it, not even Dean or Cas, but everyone knew. Sometimes it seemed as though Dean resented him for it, as though it was Castiel’s fault that he and Castiel were lovers, and that his subordinates knew he had sex with men. Old fears, old insecurities, with no place in the new world order, still eating away at him from the inside.

And when they did take the time to have intercourse, Castiel more often than not was on the receiving end. 

It hadn’t always been this way. Dean used to cling to the sheets beneath Castiel, vulnerable, making soft broken noises as Castiel thrust into him, preferring it that way, allowing someone stronger to take control and revelling in the release. Now, it was different. Ever since Detroit, ever since they had lost Sam, Dean couldn’t bear to relinquish any control -- dated sexual politics still imprinted on his psyche linked his old desires with weakness, and so Castiel let Dean fuck him. He allowed himself to be bent and stretched and used to please Dean, fucked raw and fast and deep and filled by Dean, and it felt right even when it hurt, because there was the sound of Dean’s moans and then Castiel’s name on his lips. That’s why he would do it, why he preferred intercourse, because here again was the illusion of intimacy he so craved, just a few moments where Dean was lost in the heat and sensation and caring for _him_ again. No shame, no selfishness, just him and Dean, together.

This, he could do. He would do anything for Dean and _did_ do anything for Dean, and if his body was another thing he could give, he wouldn’t hesitate. This was the easiest of all of the things Castiel could do for Dean, because unlike nearly everything else, Dean wasn’t afraid of making this need known. A second-too-long stare at a meeting, or a nod of the head as Dean returned from a mission. Sometimes it was as simple as hearing the beads in his doorway swish before being turned around and kissed fiercely. Years like this and nothing changed; the sex was intense, the battles were fought together, and yet, Dean was growing colder. Castiel did his very best to be what Dean needed, all the while feeling he was still somehow failing -- because Dean was still slipping away.

There were nights he would lay on his floor mattress, bruised and still full of Dean’s cum, left to catch his breath alone because once again, Dean had gone as soon as he’d pulled his cock from Cas’s ass. It would happen on the nights after a stressful mission, one where he’d made a bad call, and had feared a bad outcome; where he’d needed instead of an outlet to let out his pent up energy and emotion, a physical equal he could overpower and balance himself again. But as soon as it was over, he would bolt. He didn’t do it often, but it was often enough for Castiel to have learned to dread the sex ending. There were always pills nearby to numb the ugly human emotions that rose up in these moments, but more often than not he would just gaze at the ceiling. He would lay there, and indulge in his anger that any moment now, Dean will have cleaned himself up and gone to one of the women’s tents, to ease his own conflicted mind, and have his ego stroked by the sound of a female voice calling out his name. 

But there were times -- times that Castiel treasured above all others, though he was too ashamed of himself to admit it -- that Dean would allow Castiel to make love to him. These times only came about when Dean had made a grave mistake on a mission, and that was Castiel’s shame, that in wanting this with Dean he was wishing someone dead.

Dean only let Castiel fuck him when he’d lost a fighter. It was a surrender, Dean’s way to process helplessness. 

As he’d lost his powers, something happened that Castiel had only appreciated upon looking back: over time, his angelic intuition about Dean had shifted seamlessly into human understanding. So much of his insight into the mind of Dean Winchester had been primed by an angel’s senses, but now that all that was left in him was human cognition, his knowledge felt all the more intimate. Empathy, true empathy had woven in, so being able to read Dean like a book was also like carving its most heartbreaking words into his own skin. He wondered if Dean ever felt the same way about him. He thought he might know the answer.

But all of the bitterness and fractured bonds could fade away in those rare nights, when Castiel was moving inside of Dean and the blankets still smelled like the joint of an hour earlier. He’d feel the muscle of Dean’s shoulder, grip the waist that had gotten so lean in the last few years, and worship the skin of his lover like no time had passed at all, kissing the back of his neck gently, lovingly. Castiel knew Dean wasn’t looking for care, he was looking for wrecked oblivion, but Castiel couldn’t bear to treat something fragile with anything less than tenderness -- not tonight. So with skill he’s cultivated over many years of having sex with Dean, Castiel uses his mouth on Dean’s cock, working it until it is straining before moving down to Dean’s hole, which he eases open as Dean makes whimpering sounds at the head of the bed. 

Anticipation had Castiel hock hard, it’d been months since he’d been inside Dean, and entering that hot, tight heat is like the breath of life. The cry Dean makes as Castiel bottoms out is muffled by the pillow, and Castiel grips his wrist, leaning his face into his hair. Slowly, he pistons his hips, relishing in the push and pull of the movement, the adrenaline and dopamine that are flooding his system. Dean, below him, Dean, the beautiful curve of his back laid out for Castiel to see, Dean, letting himself be vulnerable. If he were to close his eyes more than a moment, Castiel would find himself years ago, in a different bed, with a different Dean, in another world entirely.

It always took coaxing to get Dean to face him, but Dean was receptive on nights like this one, and before long Castiel could look into Dean’s face as he thrust into him. He could study the expressions brought on by his actions, see for himself those green eyes flutter shut in ecstasy. Face to face. Close. Maybe too close for Dean. There was something about eye contact that could prove too much for Dean to handle, and tears would well up there, but Castiel wouldn’t look away -- instead, he would gaze right back into those eyes without judgement, hoping that in doing so, he could let Dean know it was okay. That he was safe. That in this moment, he could just _be._

Castiel circles his hips, reaching into Dean’s depths as he takes his face in his hand. A thumb at the corner of his eye catches a tear before it can fall, and Castiel leans in and kisses Dean softly, sweetly, lips brushing and lingering, before pulling away. Dean screws up his eyes at this show of pure affection, brows creased in an emotion Castiel can’t understand, but regrets have no place here for Castiel. Not yet.

Dean comes again before Castiel does, splashing both of their torsos and making no attempt to quiet his shout. Castiel doesn’t last much longer, and the legs around his waist tell him it’s okay to cum inside. He groans as his pace stutters through an orgasm, limbs suddenly heavy with tiredness. When he opens his eyes, Dean is looking up at him with an expression he hadn’t seen on that face in a long, long time; his eyes are warm, some long forgotten kindness rekindled, and Castiel could have cried himself as Dean initiated a kiss that was all care and no lust.

They laid there together, in silence, for a long, long time. Then Castiel lit another joint and they shared it, sitting outside beneath a starry sky. Castiel knew perfectly well that in a few hours time the sun would be up, and Dean would have chosen to forget about their night and the things they had shared, but for now, he was content in relishing in the afterglow of reliving their past.

That night would be the last night like it. The sex would become more selfish, the conversations more cold, but that night would guarantee that the embers stoked in Castiel -- the ones would have him have him follow Dean to the ends of the Earth -- would burn on until the very end.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope that hurt you as much as it hurt me to write <3


End file.
